A Friendly Game of Russian Roulette
by Nevermore
Summary: For those familiar with my style, this is a very Nevermore AJBAC fic. (For those of you unfamiliar with my style - check it out!) The whole dramatic tale as told through the eyes of Zack (well, as I interpret his character, that is). (Complete.)
1. Part 1

James Cameron and Charles Eglee own Dark Angel

James Cameron and Charles Eglee own Dark Angel. My use is in no way meant to challenge their copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned (or any other) copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons (either real or fictional) is unintended.

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Author's Note: Several months ago I decided to do a Zack fic. Then AJBAC came along, and my storyline fell into question. However, I was also provided a golden opportunity to write the fic that I had wanted to write (as it was the concept, and not the story, that was truly crucial to me). Now, I'm sure someone has written an 'AJBAC through Zack's eyes' fic. I can honestly say I haven't read any, though. So if there's similarity between this fic and any other, I apologize to readers I may bore with the repetition, and to authors that may feel I ripped off their work (I didn't). Oh, and to anyone that's been following my story _The Code of Honor,_ sorry I've put off the next installment to write this instead. So, without further ado or apology, here it is...

****

A Friendly Game of Russian Roulette

by

Nevermore

I am X5-599. My siblings and the few civilians I know refer to me as Zack. I'm one of a dozen X-5's that escaped from Manticore's main facility a decade ago. To the others, I'm a commanding officer, a big brother, and a guardian angel. They're my soldiers. My responsibility. I'll do whatever it takes to keep them safe. It may be difficult to keep my siblings out of danger, both from the world and themselves, but it's the one and only duty I have in life. That's how I got here, outside a Manticore facility where my sister, Tinga, is being held...

"Max, Zack," I hear Logan say over the com. Bad timing as usual. I'm about to enter the structure – Logan can wait.I burst through the door and open fire. Good news – two sentries are neutralized. Bad news – I'm hit. Bad. Pain shoots through my leg as I take a bullet in my left kneecap. Well, I guess I'll need to take a few seconds to force down the pain. I might as well give Logan my attention now that I'm crouched up in a ball, pretty much useless for a few moments.

"Max, Zack. Full military convoy," I hear Logan say over the com system. Those are just about the last words I want to hear. The chances of achieving our mission objective have just dropped significantly. Do we pull out, or not? I only have seconds to decide.

"Max. Max, pull out!" Logan yells over the com. Looks like my decision was just made for me. I hope the son of a bitch has good reason for exceeding his authority. When I evaluate his decision later, he'd damned well better be able to say the situation was really serious, like maybe if Lydecker himself is showing up with dozens of Manticore special ops.

"Max, you gotta go," Logan repeats over the line. It's then that I catch a whiff of an all too familiar scent – Lydecker. Looks like pretty boy has the right idea. I get my ass in motion, knowing Max should be right behind me. I know I should probably wait around for her, but unless I start moving now, she'll end up having to either slow down so I can keep up, or else wait for me down by the bike in the tunnels. Neither option is tactically feasible, so I'm going right now.

"Max, are you okay?" Logan asks. His voice has a tinge of desperation – he's too involved emotionally. He should never have been allowed to partake in this action. His attachment to Max could jeopardize the mission. Goddamned civilians. I continue my retreat, knowing that by now I should have run into Max. Something might be wrong.

"Talk to me. Max?" Logan asks. The only reply is silence. Yep, something is definitely wrong. I've taken myself too far from a strategic position, and with the shape I'm in, going back to cover her retreat is out of the question. Evaluate the situation – I've been wounded badly, reducing my mobility roughly 83%; Max is offline, presumably captured; and Logan has apparently lost any semblance of concentration.

"Max, are you okay? Can you hear me?" Logan asks feebly, punctuating my point. I know Lydecker is here, and he would never be stupid enough to try to take us on without heavy backup. This is a Manticore installation, which means he'll know the territory. He simply has too many advantages right now, especially if he has his hands on Max. I have to continue to withdraw. I can still get to Lydecker before he gets Max back to Wyoming. There're others I can go to for help, too. I just have to make sure I get my sorry, wounded ass back to Logan's. I can use his apartment as a fallback position. Then, once I'm operational again, I'll give Lydecker a demonstration of X-5 capabilities.

-------------------------------------------------

"What the hell happened?" I ask Logan. "We got in no problem, next thing I know Lydecker's guys are all over the place." If he had been a Manticore support soldier, he'd likely be strung up in solitary confinement by now.

"I gave you the heads up as soon as I saw them coming," Logan replies feebly. Just like a civilian, always trying to fix the blame when it's the problem that should be addressed. "Why didn't you get her out of there?"

"I tried. I couldn't get to her." As if I would have ever left her behind willingly... Logan's ignorance amazes me sometimes.

"We shouldn't have gone in."

"We didn't have a choice," I point out. "They had Tinga." I know that means little to Logan, especially now that he's lost Max, but he has to be reminded that while Tinga meant little to him, she meant the world to me and Max. Perhaps rescuing our sister was not the strategically sound decision, but we had already lost two of our siblings this year. No way was I gonna let our losses rise to three.

"And now Lydecker has Max," Logan spits. There's not much I can say about that. Jackass probably thinks he's being the man, standing there all James Deanish, seeming to deliberately look confused as he's eerily calm, cool, and collected. I would have thought he'd be climbing the walls by now, what with the way he and Max were kissing not too long ago. Hell, for that matter, I don't know how I'm holding it together. Somewhere along the line I think I shorted out a fuse in my brain or something. I never should have let myself start to care. I never used to be like this. I was virtually dead inside, and I liked it – it was how a soldier should be. I must be going soft. _Come on, Zack, get your head in the game,_ I tell myself. Seems I've been saying that too often lately.

I force the confusion and pain from my head, focusing on the job at hand. Our first rescue mission has obviously led to another, and this time I can't afford to make mental errors.

"We've got to find her," Logan mutters, as if I hadn't already figured that out. I hold back my anger and restrain myself from breaking both of his useless, crippled legs. The important thing is to get Max back – work first, play later.

"I contacted Krit and Syl," I tell Logan, letting him know I'm way ahead of him. It pisses me off that he even needs to be reminded that I'm far smarter than he'll ever be. He should just assume that I've already addressed anything he can think of. "They're on their way," I add, letting my unwanted ally in on the status of our new team. I keep to myself the thought that I can't wait to work with people that are worthy of my time. Such sentiments wouldn't gain me anything if I ever bothered to speak them.

"So if Lydecker's in the wind and he's got Max with him, what's his plan?" Logan asks. I guess this is where I'm supposed to pull out my crystal ball and speak cryptically as I miracle an answer to that question right out of my ass.

"I would assume he's gonna bring her back to Manticore," I answer needlessly, as if there was any other possibility.

"So what do we do while we're waiting for the others?" I notice he's dropped his calm demeanor, revealing that he's actually on the edge of panic

"Okay, that's it," I growl. "You ask me another fucking question, and I'm gonna rip your goddamn head off," I promise him. It feels good to finally put Logan in his place and vent some of the frustration I've been feeling since I realized I had to leave Maxie behind. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm a bloody fucking mess over here. I need time to heal before we can do much of anything, unless you're planning on marching into a Manticore safehouse on your own." I glare at Logan and see no such absurd suggestion burst forth from his lips. Excellent, he's starting to settle down and see reason.

"Nice to see you're calming down again, Mr. Cale. Now I need you to make yourself useful while I work on putting myself back together."

"What do you need?" Logan asks, his voice pleasantly even and controlled. I think he's actually gotten a grip this time.

"I need groceries," I tell him. "I want about four, maybe five gallons of spring water. Throw in about five pounds of fresh beef, a couple of pounds of pasta, and a few dozen eggs." He gives me a questioning stare, and before I can explain myself I think of something important that I missed. "I also need a five-pound bag of sugar. And a toothbrush."

"Is that all?" Logan asks sarcastically. God I wish I was allowed to hit him... but I doubt Max would approve when we get her back.

"Look, Logan, you've seen the marvels of Manticore engineering in Max's heightened recuperative abilities, right?" He nods. "Good. So, like you've seen, we heal really fast. But the body needs energy and food in order to create new cells. The protein in the meat and eggs, along with the simple and complex carbohydrates in the sugar and pasta, will give my body all the fuel it needs to do its work. Then it'll just take time."

"How long?"

"Twenty-four hours, give or take," I reply, noticing how his eyes go wide. Yep, we X-5 types can heal a gunshot wound in twenty-four hours if we take the time to help our bodies along. I can see the look of jealousy in his eyes, and I do my best to hide my satisfaction. He's out of his league here, and I think he's beginning to understand that. Max didn't rub her superiority in his face, so he never really had to deal with his pathetic normalcy. I think it's good for him to see the way things are. He has to be made to understand that he has no business being with Max. Family is not an option. Not for us. If she's not strong enough to leave him, then I'll have to ensure that he leaves her. She's my soldier. My responsibility. I'll do whatever it takes to keep her safe... even if that means sabotaging her love life behind her back. She'll never thank me – in fact, she'll probably never speak to me again if she finds out – but I have to take care of her, no matter what. Even if she ends up hating me for what I do.

__

To be continued.............................


	2. Part 2

James Cameron and Charles Eglee own Dark Angel

James Cameron and Charles Eglee own Dark Angel. My use is in no way meant to challenge their copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned (or any other) copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons (either real or fictional) is unintended.

"Zack, they're here," Logan's voice says softly. I immediately shake off the cloud of sleep and focus my concentration on my left knee, checking to see how well the healing process has progressed. It's tight, that's for sure, but the searing pain is gone. I swing my legs out over the side of the cot and hesitantly stand up. All right, the knee is very, very tight, but it can support my weight. It's far from being 100%, but then again, I only plan on tracking down Lydecker and his boys. Even in my present condition I should be more than a match for any normal human. Especially with Krit and Syl backing me up. I really can't wait to see the look on good old Donald's face when three of his escaped soldiers swoop in unexpectedly and snatch away his prize. Logan's cell-phone rings, knocking my thoughts back into focus, and he walks out of the storeroom as he talks to one of his contacts.

Maybe Logan Cale isn't so bad, after all. Sure, he's no soldier, but he did have the skill to hack into a Chinese spy satellite and give us a heads-up on Lydecker and his people, even if the heads-up did come about a minute too late to be of any real use. He also seems to know people everywhere, giving him access to all kinds of useful information. The thing that I really like about the guy, though, is that he's left me alone since we decided to spring Max. He's been busy doing whatever it is he's doing, and he's trusted me to take care of my own end of the operation. He works very well independently. Maybe that's why he was such a fuck-up when trying to work in a group. Either way, though, Logan certainly does have value in our rescue plans. I'll just have to make certain he knows his role and sticks to it. Maybe I should also throw in a word or two about remaining professionally detached from the situation.

After my first few steps toward the door to the front of the abandoned warehouse, I already feel my knee loosening up. It's good to be a trans-genetically engineered super-soldier. I wouldn't give it up for the world. I don't know for sure what it's like to be human, but I know that none of them have it as easy as I do. Sure, I have to stay on the run from Manticore and foreign governments that would love to get their hands on the bio-technology that comprises my very being, but that's no real biggie. My material needs are met, and I have a purpose. How many other people in the world can say they know exactly what their role is in life? There's no confusion in for me – I exist to take care of my soldiers. Anything else is a distraction.

I walk into the front and set my eyes on Krit and Syl. Krit looks eager to get into a fight. Nothing new there, I guess. He always did love a good scrap, rushing in where angels fear to tread. Syl, on the other hand, is her usual, more reserved and thoughtful self. I think that probably makes her the more dangerous of the two. Just comparing the two on a physical level, Krit obviously has the edge. He's stronger and faster, an incredible specimen even by Manticore standards. But Syl... I don't know. The way she looks at people is almost eerie. She examines everything with exacting precision. Her gaze is unsettling for people that aren't used to it. I remember one time, when we were kids, when she simply stared at one of the newer sentries in the mess hall. For the entire meal, all she did was stare. He noticed, and started to shift his weight from one foot to the other, and then diverted his own gaze to the floor. The man must have been thirty years old, the product of some of the best training the U.S. military had to offer, and he was completely psyched out by the gaze of an eight-year old.

As we left the mess that morning, I remember hearing Syl whisper to the man that he should stop cheating on his wife with one of the nurses. He just stared in disbelief that she had somehow picked out what he had been doing, just by looking at him for a half-hour. That's the kind of person Syl is – you can't hide anything from her. She has a knack for finding weak spots in people, be they friend or foe, and then exploiting them. She's always amazed me. It's a good thing she escaped from Manticore. I can just imagine the kind of work they would have come up with for her to do.

"Syl, Krit, what do you got?" I ask as I walk out to join my siblings. Spread out on a table is a nice little collection of military hardware, including an AR-15, an M-16, two MP-5's, and a half-dozen grenades.

"Packs a punch, but I've only got 40 rounds," Krit replies, gesturing toward the AR-15. It's definitely a nice weapon, but he's right – forty rounds isn't gonna get the job done.

"I'll track some more down," I promise him. Krit's abilities in combat are limited only by the weapons he chooses. If I give him more than enough ammunition for the job, he'll be an unholy terror. "What about you, little sister?" I ask Syl.

"Russian-made RGN-3's, fragmentation pattern explosion," she tells me, tossing a grenade over in my direction.

"Nice," I comment with an approving nod. Grenades are the perfect weapons for someone like Syl. She gets to stay under cover and toss out one weapon that eliminates several threats at once. It's not as direct as Krit's habit of mowing down enemies with an assault rifle, but it's just as effective. Put the two of them together as a pair, and they're absolutely deadly. Their styles complement each other perfectly. When we're out in the field, it'll be Krit and Syl in one unit, and me on my own. I would have liked to get someone to work with me, to watch my six, but none of the others could get here in time.

"Thanks," Logan says, snapping his phone closed with a flourish of his hand. I guess that's a sign that we're supposed to pay attention to him now. It's a little hard to take him seriously, though. I have Krit and Syl showing me their newest bad-ass military weapons, and Logan's over there playing with a cell-phone. It's almost comical, actually. "That was a contact of mine," he reports, as if none of us had guessed that much already. I think it was safe enough to assume that he wasn't ordering a pizza, though that would be a fine idea. I'm really, really hungry. "Military convoy just swooped in on some motel in sector eight," he says.

"That's got to be them. Let's move out." It looks like any chances to get more ammunition for Krit will have to wait. I just hope he remembers to fire short, controlled bursts, and not blow his entire magazine all at once. We turn to leave, and suddenly the wall opposite us crashes in. _Black Humvee. Military issue. Manticore._ I raise my weapon and prepare to fire, and I see out of the corner of my eye that Krit's just as prepared. I sense that Syl is standing behind us, as I would expect her to be. She's no vanguard soldier, that's for sure, but by standing back she gives herself an extra half-second to evaluate the situation. No enemy who knew her would be comfortable with allowing her that luxury.

The Hummer comes to a screeching stop, and I do my best to hide my surprise when I see Max behind the wheel. I know her training was every bit as good as mine, but she hasn't maintained her skills as well as she should have. She's let herself go a bit, sorta lost her edge. I'm quite honestly surprised that she was able to effectuate an escape on her own.

She gets out of the vehicle as we all lower our weapons, and her eyes light up with glee. "Krit," she says with a smile, and then she grabs him in a tight embrace. Something in me recoils at seeing her in the arms of another man, but I stuff the feeling down in my gut, as has become custom. Max is my soldier. My responsibility. Personal feelings could jeopardize my ability to effectively do my duty. I will never allow that to happen. Over the years I've accepted that I'm stuck with human emotions, an obvious oversight by my designers. I can't avoid feeling the way I do, but I can sure as hell ignore it.

"Hey, Maxie," Krit mutters into Max's shoulder. He's got the widest smile I've ever seen on his face. Well, maybe the rescue has just been called off, but that doesn't mean morale is down at all. No sooner was Max out of Krit's arms than she was smothering Syl in a tight hug. I figured that with everyone as happy as they were, it was a bad time to point out that if Max had shown up just a few seconds later, she likely would have run us down with the Humvee. She should really be more careful when she's driving.

"Syl," Max said lightly, and I could tell she was fighting back tears of joy. Ever since I met Max, she's been desperate to find the rest of us. Now she's gotten to see two siblings she hasn't seen since the escape. She gives me a sideways glance, but doesn't say a word. Of course, she doesn't need to, either. I know what she's thinking. She's touched that I had rushed to get a rescue party together for her, but she'll never admit it to me. I ignore the twinge of... something... that I feel when she all but ignores me.

"Hey," she says to Logan, with a tone and expression that only a young girl in love can ever really muster. For the briefest of moments she seems like a normal girl, and I doubt anyone could have seen her just then and ever guessed what she really is. She's certainly come a long way in the single year she's spent in Seattle.

****

"Hey yourself," Logan replies with a smile of his own. Dumb bastard is totally in love with her. It's obvious he just hasn't thought this all through yet. Logan may be many things, but he's not completely dim. Sooner or later he's going to realize the implications of continuing this relationship with Max, and he'll stuff his feelings down deep inside, just like I have. It's the smart thing to do. It's the professional thing to do. If he wants to keep himself from getting hurt, it's the only thing to do.

Without another word, Max abruptly turns and walks back to the Humvee. "How'd you know where to find us?" Logan asks weakly.

****

"Bling told me there was a party," Max replies as she opens the back door to the Hummer. She pulls someone out, and I can't even find the words to express what I'm feeling. Good old Colonel Lydecker, here in our warehouse.

****

"Look what the cat dragged in," Syl comments, looking at Lydecker the way a cat might gaze at a goldfish in a bowl. Part of me really just wants to put a bullet in Deck's head, but another part wants to give him to Syl, to see what she would come up with for him. I'll bet she knows all about his greatest, darkest fears. What she would do to him would likely be as inhuman as everything he ever did to us.

"You said you needed a few perfect soldiers," Max comments to Lydecker. "Well, here we are."

"What are you talking about?" I ask, the words coming forth from my mouth before I have a chance to check them.

"He's going to help us," Max says, her answer begging the obvious question.

"Help us what?" Krit asks for all of us.

"Take down Manticore," Max replies matter-of-factly. Both Krit and Syl look at each other, and then they look at me, as if they're asking me whether Max could possibly have said what she did. Judging by the fact that we all reacted the same way, I have to assume that she really did just say that we're gonna take down Manticore. It seems a little crazy, even for Max. Maybe she didn't escape at all. Maybe Lydecker let her go so she'd bring him right to us. But he didn't have her long enough to reprogram her that thoroughly, did he? I really can't be sure.

"Okay, let's just take this down a notch," I suggest, gesturing toward the rickety table and chairs we had in the warehouse. "Can we take a few moments to discuss this rationally, before anyone starts going off half-cocked?" I look pointedly at Max, and I think she realizes that when I say 'someone,' I mean her. Everyone sits down in the general vicinity of the table – Krit takes a seat at the table, while Max crouches on top of it; Lydecker sits in the corner with Syl hovering close-by; and Logan sits as far removed as he can while still being in the area. Kudos to him. He obviously knows this isn't a decision that should involve him. Unlike the others, I refuse to sit. I just pace around them all, letting my knee continue to stretch out as I toss ideas around in my head. No one's speaking... they're all watching me, waiting to see what I have to say. Well, what exactly _do_ I have to say? This whole idea seems a little crazy to me. Maybe that's the best place to start off.

"This is crazy, Max," I say, trying to jolt some sense into my 'sister.' "We've made it this far by staying under the radar, blending in." As the saying goes, if it ain't broke, don't fix it. Then again...

"Always on the run, constantly looking over your shoulder," Max counters. "You said it yourself. They'll never stop looking for us. They'll hunt us down one by one until we're either dead or in a cage. It's time to bring this war home." To tell the truth, there's nothing I've ever wanted more. I am a soldier, after all. I love the idea of a stand-up fight, especially if the alternative is endless retreat from my enemy. I've grown tired of our decade-long escape and evade action. If there were a way to do this on my own, I would jump at the opportunity, even if I knew it would be a suicide mission. Bringing the others in, though... it doesn't seem right. I don't like it at all. I've been training constantly since the escape, and so has Krit, but Max isn't the same soldier she was back then, and Syl was never exactly an unstoppable force in the field.

"Maybe you're right," Syl admits, predictably being the next one to see the potential such a decision holds. She has to know the danger, but she's also smart enough to see the potential upside of the assault. "But what about him?" she asked, nodding toward Lydecker. Good, she still has reservations.

"And you expect us to believe he's had an epiphany because of what happened to Tinga?" I add angrily, echoing Syl's thoughts and letting everyone know in no uncertain terms that I don't like this idea.

"Maybe," Max said, her voice not all too certain. It's good to see she still has some rational doubts. "Or one of his bosses want him dead in a big way."

"Take a number," Krit spits, not bothering to hide the fact that he's more than willing to kill Lydecker here and now. I've always liked Krit.

"Either way, he's going to help us." Ah yes, self-interest – there's probably no greater motivator for the human species. If Lydecker really thinks his ass is forfeit unless we succeed, then maybe he could be trusted to a certain extent. Maybe he really will help us.

"Or double-cross you. Again," Logan says, reminding Max of the last time we worked with Lydecker.

"I don't expect you to trust me, but remember what I taught you," Lydecker replies. I wonder if he realizes what a bad idea it is to remind us of all the time we enjoyed the 'privilege' of being his students. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend," he says in a slightly condescending tone.

"Shut up," I growl, letting our prisoner know how little I like being preached to.

"I know that facility and its defensive capabilities like the back of my hand," Lydecker says smoothly. "I can get us inside."

"Then what?" Syl asks. "There are only four of us. What kind of damage can we do?" Always the strategist, wondering what kind of tactical advantage can be gained by any action. I doubt Syl has ever done anything in her life without knowing exactly what benefit she would enjoy by doing so. I think she sees the world like a chessboard, with every action taken with a specific purpose in mind. What a wonderfully militaristic mind...

****

"You take out the DNA lab," Lydecker replies, making certain he moves slowly as he stands from his chair, as if he wants to ensure we all know he's not planning anything stupid. "Destroy their ability to develop a new generation of soldiers."

"And what's to keep our enemy... or the enemy of our enemy... from starting over?" I ask, figuring that's the fatal flaw in Donald's plan.

"You remember when you kids escaped?" Lydecker asks, his voice indicating that he's about to go into storytelling mode. His stories were always almost interesting, filled with death and destruction, and invariably containing a moral that could be applied to our roles as soldiers. Just the memory of 'Bedtime Stories by Don' made me want to retch all over the floor. "They almost shut the place down," he says. "That's nothing compared to what will happen if we can take out the lab. There'll be a war of finger-pointing, funding will disappear, and Manticore... will cease to exist."

"It's worth a shot," Krit says way too quickly. It's obvious he's been dreaming about going back home for a long time. Yep, going home to visit his childhood home, and blowing it up. Typical Krit stuff.

"I'm getting tired of running," Syl says, here voice still slightly noncommittal. She's making her intentions clear – she'll go along if I decide to lead the attack, but she'll also accept my decision if I consider the operation too risky.

"I don't like it," I admit. There's just too much that can go wrong.

"There is no 'I' in 'team,' Zack," Lydecker says. He's got to know just how badly I could cripple him. It amazes me that he still has the gall to egg me on like that.

"I don't like it, either, but we don't have a choice," Max says, making it clear where she stands. She's wrong, though. Of course we have a choice. We can just continue on our own, just like we have been. Or we could wait a little while so that I could get all the others to come in to support us. This is all just too quick. Maybe that's the point, though. Maybe Max knows it has to be done now, before any of us stop long enough to consider just how foolish this might be. She's right, though – if it's gonna be done, it has to be done now. If any one of us has the wisdom to sleep on our decision, we'll never go through with this. It's obvious Lydecker has convinced Krit and Max, though Syl is still waiting on me. Max and Krit are my soldiers. My responsibility. I can't let them attack Manticore on their own. I have to be there to protect them.

"You so much as breathe wrong, there'll be four of us to take you out," I remind Lydecker.

"Make that five," Logan blurts out. I guess the sentiment is nice, but Lydecker would kick Logan's ass seven ways to Sunday if given the opportunity.

"Got it," Lydecker says, apparently deciding to humor our ADA-hire co-worker.

"Come on, you're going to draw us a map of the facility," Syl says, grabbing a tight hold of Lydecker. Good, she's getting right down to business. With Syl helping to plan this, and me and Krit together again out in the field, we might actually have a chance. I'll have to remember to thank Max when this is all over – I doubt anyone else could have ever made it possible.

__

To be continued.............................


	3. Part 3

James Cameron and Charles Eglee own Dark Angel

James Cameron and Charles Eglee own Dark Angel. My use is in no way meant to challenge their copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned (or any other) copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons (either real or fictional) is unintended.

****

3

I have to admit that a smile almost comes to my face as I look over the schematics that good old Deck is drawing for us. A quick glance at Syl lets me know that she's just as pleased. The facility in Gillette, for all its security, is really more a prison than a fortress. The thing about prisons is that getting in is easy. Once you're in, though, moving about freely and getting back out can be problematic, to say the least. Be that as it may, though, my greatest concerns have already been assuaged. No one ever seemed to expect that any of my siblings would try something like this. If the thought had ever occurred to them, the powers that be would have gone to the trouble of designing a tighter perimeter. This won't exactly be the easiest strike I've ever done, but I think we can get into the main complex. It'll only be then that we'll have to start working miracles.

I look up at the clock again – it's been forty minutes since Max and Krit went to commandeer the van that the South Africans had been using. Lydecker might be a devious, untrustworthy snake in the grass, but at least he seems to be working for us right now. So I guess that makes him our snake in the grass. One look at the first layer of Manticore's security let us know we'd need a mobile command center with satellite computer access, and Don let us know about the South African team that happened to have a wonderful van loaded with everything we'd need. Never mind the fact that twenty-four hours ago he was in cahoots with them, using their equipment to hunt down Max and me. Sorta makes me wonder who he's planning on working with twenty-four hours from now. Maybe he'll be dead in twenty-four hours... now that's a comforting thought.

"There's gotta be something besides cameras and guards," Syl comments, drawing me back to the here and now. I can't believe I was letting my mind wander again, especially at a time like this.

"As far as detection goes, that's pretty much it," Lydecker replies. "The focus of security is on compartmentalizing the facility. You two have probably come up with a dozen ways to get in already. The problem is moving beyond any access point to the more sensitive areas."

"There's got to be a way," I comment, knowing Lydecker wouldn't have come this far if he didn't have something up his sleeve. I have to admit that I don't see any way of moving about without heavy explosives, but if I can count on Deck for nothing else, I know he can be subtle.

"Don't worry about that just yet," he says. "Right now we have to get that command center up and running. Without that we can't even deal with the cameras."

"What about dogs?" Syl asks. As soon as she mentions them, I remember the way she was always skittish around dogs in the old days. Funny how little details like that fade from memory over time. There were dogs all over the compound when we were kids, though they never seemed to get along too well with any of us, and especially not Syl. Our screwy DNA must have created something in us that they didn't like.

"They don't use many dogs anymore," Lydecker says without hesitation, something in his voice letting me know that he was on the losing end of some debate concerning this very issue. "You probably remember that they were all a little weird around your class. Well, by the time the X-7's were produced, the dogs had become downright hostile. There'll be some deployed around the perimeter, and a few walking between the buildings of the complex, but there aren't any dogs inside the buildings anymore."

"That's lucky, at least," I admit. If there's one thing in life I hate, it's guard dogs. Before I can say anything else, though, the back door to the warehouse starts to open, and we see Krit standing in front of the van that he and Max just acquired. I have to admit that after Max's last entrance into the building, it was rather brave of Krit to let his sister do the driving. Lydecker and I stand and walk over, leaving Syl to finish going over the plans on her own. I trust her to find some way of getting the job done. Lydecker and Logan start to pore over the computer equipment as Krit and I examine the few weapons that had been stored inside. There's nothing all that special, but we can certainly use every weapon we can get.

"Well, with a few modifications we can run our operation from in here," Lydecker finally announces, not having taken long at all to reach that conclusion. Yep, he's a royal pain in the ass, but he's a good strategist and he knows his computer equipment. 

"I'll get on it," Logan volunteers, finally putting himself to some good use once again. Now that Max and Krit are back, it's time to stop dealing in hypotheticals and get down to business.

"What kind of resistance are we going to meet?" I ask, knowing that vague talk of cameras and sentries doesn't do much good when it comes down to crunch time. I need numbers and details.

"Fortunately for us, most of the X-series has been deployed in various parts of the world," Lydecker tells us. "There is a contingent of conventional soldiers," he says, though he seems to be hanging on something else. "And a small security detail of X-5's," he finally adds, as if he knows just how much that's going to unsettle us. "About a dozen."

"Not the kind of family reunion I was hoping for," Max comments. I really wish she would stop talking about family at a time like this. The X-5's at the complex stopped being family when the rest of us escaped. I honestly don't get why Max doesn't understand that very simple concept.

"With any luck, we'll be in and out before they even know we're there," I say, knowing that's the best I can do to try to quell my siblings' concerns. I don't want them to start getting second thoughts about what we're gonna do. I don't like the whole idea of this mission, but if it's gonna be done, we're sure as hell gonna do it without even the slightest hint of hesitation.

"Say we can breach the perimeter and get inside the building, how are we going to get in the lab and lay the charges?" Syl asks. Well, I guess she couldn't come up with anything, either. That sure doesn't bode well for our chances. "This thing's a lockbox," she adds, throwing the map right at our would-be commander.

"And I've got to figure when they put out the hit on you, they probably yanked your clearance," Max adds, pointing out that the one really foolproof way we might have had to get into the lab is pretty much shot to hell.

"Which is why I need to see a friend of mine before we go," Lydecker says smoothly.

"Like we're just going to let you walk out of here and drop a dime on us?" I ask, hardly able to believe he thinks we could be so gullible. He turns and looks at me like he's almost offended that we think he might be up to something.

"If you don't trust me..."

"That's a given," Krit says, cutting him off.

"Then one of you should come with me," Deck suggests. Now it's time to make a decision. Is he trying classic divide-and-conquer tactics, or is he really on the level? If he has a way into the lab, then obviously we have to let him go meet with this friend of his. In the end I guess we have little choice. The only question is who to send. I'll be leading the assault in the field, so obviously I have to stay here to be in on all phases of planning. Since Syl is the best one at organizing a strike, she also has to stay. That leaves either Max or Krit. I don't know that I can trust Krit not to kill Lydecker if he gets bored, so that pretty much makes Max the obvious choice. Besides, she's the one that dragged him back with this half-ass idea. If anyone has to be punished with one-on-one quality time with Colonel Dad, it's gonna be Max.

"Max, go with him," I say. She looks at me with venom in her eyes, making it obvious that she'll have words for me when she gets back, but she's also already moving to Lydecker's side, making certain he understands that he's not free to get too far. They walk out to the Humvee and drive off into the night, trusting us to have the rest of the plan put together by the time they get back from wherever it is they're going. I guess it's really time to buckle down. I look across the table at Syl, and see her gazing back at me, obviously waiting for me to take the lead in organizing the strike. That's when it hits me – I have absolutely no idea of how to go about doing this.

Sure, ten years ago I was the CO of my group of X-5's, but that doesn't mean that I'm still ready for that responsibility after ten years as a quasi-civilian. Okay, so I've been in my share of scraps in that time, but I've always been on my own. Until Max and I went in to get Tinga, I hadn't really done much team-oriented tactical planning since Manticore. Well, I suppose you could count the time we went to save Brinn, but that didn't go quite as we had planned, so I'm ignoring that whole fiasco. Now here I am, with Syl and Krit waiting for me to fall into a role I think I may have grown out of. So since I have little idea of how to proceed, I make like any civilian middle-manager in my position would – I delegate.

"Syl, I want a rundown of four possible routes through the complex, from the perimeter fence all the way into the lab, and then back out again," I say evenly. "Don't worry about security doors or anything else for right now. I just want the best possible routes you can find."

"Any requirements for the search?" she asks.

"Yeah, plan two as quick, efficient routes, and the others as more roundabout, unorthodox routes," I instruct her. "Try to find us an exit from the roof of the main building, and also see if there are any of the old underground tunnels that haven't been filled in."

"You got it," she says with a wink and a thin smile. I think in that one moment she displayed more personality than I've ever seen from her before. I guess Syl's had some interesting times since our escape and just never bothered to fill me in on details that she knew I'd find superfluous. Maybe I'll ask her after this whole thing.

"Krit," I suddenly say, my voice on the verge of shouting as I once again try to jar myself away from stray thoughts in order to focus on business. I've often heard people use the phrase 'going soft,' but I've never really understood it. Lately, though, I think I may be going soft. I definitely don't have the same edge I had a year ago. I've been concerned about this for a couple of months now, and I think I know what the problem is – Max. At the most inconvenient times I find myself thinking about her, and it's starting to drive me crazy.

"What do you need?" Krit asks, either not noticing or politely ignoring the distractions I feel are so plainly written on my face for all the world to see. I may as well just write 'I can't think clearly because I'm too wrapped up in Max' on a piece of paper and tape it to my forehead.

"I need you to go over every single one of the weapons," I tell him. "You know as well as I do that we can't afford to have a feed jam in the middle of a firefight."

"No problem," Krit says, already going to work breaking down an old AK-47 that we got from the South Africans.

"So what are you gonna be doing?" Syl asks, her eyes never straying from the schematic she's looking over. She probably noticed that something's eating at me. There's no other reason for her to avoid eye contact. After all, it's not like she hasn't memorized every detail on that piece of paper by now.

"I'm gonna go see if I can dig up an old contact of mine," I lie. "There's a guy I know that used to live around here that might be able to get us some ammo."

"We're gonna need it," Krit comments. Syl doesn't say a word... yeah, she definitely knows.

"I'll be back in a little bit," I tell them. Moments later I'm dashing out into the Seattle night, trying to figure out what's wrong with me. I know the problem is stemming from these goddamn emotions that have been creeping into my brain. I don't think any of us were supposed to have feelings. We damn sure weren't ever taught how to deal with them... at least not the ones I'm feeling right now. All good old Don ever told us about emotions was that they should never be allowed to control us. His primary concerns, of course, were fear and anger. I don't think he really ever conceived of the possibility that, as professional soldiers, we would ever really have much of an opportunity to feel anything else. So here I am, in this body consumed with longing and raging with hormones, both human and otherwise, completely unaware of how to regain control.

_Focus, damnit!_ I order myself. I'm hours away from going into battle, some of my X-5's at my side, and another dozen or so arrayed against me. I've devoted my life to keeping my soldiers safe, and now here I am jeopardizing their lives because of a worthless crush. That's all it is, after all – a crush. It's not like Max and I share anything special. She's in love with Mr. Hell-on-Wheels, and he's completely retarded for her. I'd almost be upset if not for the fact that the way things have worked out is actually lucky – getting involved with anyone would only get in the way of my responsibilities, especially if that someone was another X-5. I have to take care of all of my soldiers, after all, and make certain I never play favorites.

Not that any of that shit makes it any easier to take it when Max comes waltzing into the warehouse, giving hugs to Krit and Syl and a big loving smile to Logan, while not even doing any more than glancing at me for about a millisecond. Not that I can get the image of her kissing Logan out of my head whenever I'm alone, like I am now. I honestly think I'm starting to go crazy – there's simply no other explanation for my recent behavior. My insides feel like they're twisting in a knot, and all I want to do is scream, though I know it wouldn't do me any good. _All of this angsty crap can wait,_ I remind myself. _You have a job to do. You're a professional, and there's no place for these stupid feelings in your life._

Within twenty-four hours Manticore will be destroyed, and I'll truly have my freedom. Then a new wave of nausea washes over me, and I seriously almost yack in the middle of the alley I somehow found my way into. If Manticore is gone, then all of my soldiers will be safe. _What the hell will I do then?_ The question repeats itself over and over in my mind. If the X-5's don't need me to watch over them, then what is there for me? Am I supposed to settle down and play house like Tinga did, or like Max undoubtedly will? I don't have to even think about that – there's no way in hell that'll ever happen. But if not that, then what?

I take a few steps into a dark, comforting shadow, and let my eyes pierce through the inky blackness. A rat is nibbling on a chicken wing about ten feet away from me, and I wonder for a moment what it would be like to be the tiny animal. It has no real cares in the world. It just hangs out all day, with no real responsibilities. It just eats, sleeps, and makes baby rats. I'll bet the rat never had anyone like Max come into its life and mess with its head. I almost find myself envying the simple life of that stupid rodent... at least until an alley-cat shoots out of nowhere and makes the rat into a meal of its own. _Well, maybe it isn't so good to be the rat, after all._

I take a brief look at my watch, ignoring the squeaking death cry of the rat I had been watching, and realize that I've been gone for over an hour. Time sure can fly when you're being self-destructively miserable. _There's nothing between you and Max,_ I tell myself for the umpteenth time. _There never will be anything there. It just isn't possible. Besides, it wouldn't work, anyway._ I don't understand how examining matters of the heart rationally always seems an effort doomed to failure. So it's pretty useless to tell myself it wouldn't work. Here's something that will, though – if nothing else, I am still the CO of the escaped X-5's. They're my soldiers. My responsibility. I'll do whatever it takes to keep them safe, and I will never, ever endanger any of them just because I can't get a handle on my emotions. Tonight, I have a job to do. No matter what happens, I will not forget my responsibilities.

__

To be continued..................................


	4. Part 4

James Cameron and Charles Eglee own Dark Angel

James Cameron and Charles Eglee own Dark Angel. My use is in no way meant to challenge their copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned (or any other) copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons (either real or fictional) is unintended.

****

4

"Chow down, my grunts, mess is on," Max says cheerily as she walks over with a few pizzas. She must have been able to read my mind. We all tear into the food hungrily, all of a sudden seeming as if none of the intervening years away from each other had ever happened. I look at Syl and see her eyes roll back in her head a little bit as she bites into her food, sorta like a shark's do. Krit, like he always used to, is eating with his mouth open, allowing intermittent glimpses of chewed cheese and pizza dough. And Max simply stands there inhaling her food, obviously used to eating on the run. She gets a bit of the tomato sauce on her chin, and I want to reach over and gently rub it off for her, but Syl beats me to the punch, sorta grunting to Max as she points at her own chin. Maxie understands Syl's vague pantomime and wipes away the sauce with her thumb.

"So, I know it's food time and all, and we never liked to talk business during meals, but I have a question," Krit says between bites, somehow keeping his food from falling from his mouth as he speaks.

"What is it?" Max asks.

"It's about Lydecker," Krit says, not surprising me in the least. I've seen the way Krit's been looking at Don, and I have to admit I've been a little concerned. He's almost resembled a tiger preparing to pounce.

"He says he had nothing to do with Tinga, but how can we be sure?" Krit asks.

"Look, I don't trust him either," Max says, "but I was there when Tinga was originally recaptured. The look on Lydecker's face was... well, someone fucked him over on that deal, I'm pretty sure of that. Also, I don't think he would ever have willingly killed any of us, at least not like that."

"Of course not," I interrupt, "we're all worth far too much money."

"No, it's more than that," Max counters. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying the son of a bitch really cares about us or anything, but he's got some kind of twisted father-child dynamic built up in his head. Sometimes he refers to us as 'his kids,' and I don't think he means it only as a commanding officer would say 'his soldiers.' It's more than that, somehow."

"So you're basing your conclusions on a hunch," Syl surmised.

"You're gonna tell me he doesn't feel something more for us than he's supposed to?" Max asked.

"Not at all," Syl said. "I've always known how he really feels about us, and that makes me hate him that much more when I remember some of the things he's done to us. He's kept us in a pool until we were all in danger of drowning, he's allowed us to be carved up on the autopsy table when something goes wrong with us, and let's never forget that he gunned down Eva in cold blood right before we made our escape. I don't doubt he's capable of whacking Tinga, too."

"I think we should kill him," Krit mutters. "We don't have to do it now. We can wait until the job is done, and then we can see how happy Lydecker is being put underwater for four minutes, or see how he likes the idea of running battlefield simulations with live ammunition. He's got a lot to answer for."

"If we did that, we wouldn't be any better than him," Max says. Leave it to Maxie to get all moral like that. I honestly have no idea where she found that inconvenient conscience of hers."

"No, it would be worse than that," Syl comments, her eyes going to the floor. "If we killed him, we'd probably only make him proud of us. He spent years trying to frighten us, since fear was the only power he knew he could ever have over us. If we found the courage to ever kill him... he'd die with a shit-eating grin on his face, knowing that we'd finally become everything he ever wanted us to be." It's obvious that Syl has lain awake at night thinking about this very often. To tell the truth, I don't see any way to disagree with her.

"I don't care how proud he'd be as he died, just as long as he was dead," Krit spits.

"Enough," I say, making certain there's a bit of a growl in my voice to emphasize just how much this conversation is over. "I honestly don't give a rat's ass how you feel about the Colonel," I tell Krit. "We have a job to do, and we're gonna do it. These personal feelings of yours had better disappear real fast; you got that, soldier?" Krit nods his head in affirmation, and I breathe a little more easily.

"All right, people, listen up," Lydecker suddenly announces, grabbing our attention and dragging us away from our recently completed conversation. "We've got a lot of work to do before we move out."

"Hang on, there's something we need to know," I say, making certain that at least one issue gets cleared up before my sibs and I do any killing for dear old dad.

"Who murdered our sister?" Krit asks, his voice still holding a tinge of anger. He should have stuffed that down more thoroughly by now. He's only giving Lydecker an edge by letting him know just how pissed off and suspicious we are.

"The new director," Lydecker finally says. "Name's Renfro. She's a real piece of work."

"Why'd she do it?" Max asks, as if something like that could easily be summed up in a one-sentence answer.

"I don't know," Lydecker admits. I don't remember ever hearing him say those words. Well, more to the point, I don't know if I've ever heard him say those words and actually mean them. He's said that plenty of times before, but I always knew he was lying. Now, however, it seems the Colonel, the man who always had all the answers, whether we liked them or not, is every bit as much in the dark as the rest of us. The feeling is rather unsettling.

It's at that moment that I hear a bird, a crow, start to caw from above us. I whirl to look at the crow, feeling Max, Syl, and Krit move right along with me. The sound of the cawing... it reminds me of a time from my so-called childhood, not long before our escape. The X-5's had been divided up into several strike units, each of them working independently of the others. In the end, we had a seven-team free-for-all on the Manticore grounds, each of us using live ammunition just to make sure that everyone would stay on his toes. There had been a crow then, too, and Scott had decided that he would chase the bird away. He fired a single round, but he was careless and his shot hit Barry. The bullet went right through Barry's chest, collapsing the right ventricle and preventing any sort of effective treatment. He died in front of us all, as we gathered helplessly around him to watch his final, wheezing breaths.

That was the first time we had ever lost anyone in the field, the first time we saw just how deadly a rifle could be. We had never lost one of our own like that, and the worst thing was that Barry was in my unit. He was my man, my soldier, my responsibility. That was the first and only time that I lost anyone. I swore that day that I would never experience that kind of failure again.

I glance quickly at the others, and I can see that they're all thinking the same thing. Each of these three was in my unit that day, so it makes sense, I guess. Still, I don't see any reason for dwelling on the past, not when we're facing the uncertain future that we are. With one quick motion I draw my 9mm and glare up at the stupid bird, making certain I can track the bullet's path. I glance at the angled, metal roof and decide in the blink of an eye that the ricochet will carry the bullet in a safe direction. One shot, and the bird flies away. I make certain I don't hit it – there's something about crows that's just a little spooky, even for me, and I don't want to tempt any bad luck. I know what most people would think if they ever heard me talking about luck, but I think there's probably something to it. Whether bad luck exists or not, though, I don't see any point in taking chances.

Once the echo from the shot stops ringing off the metal walls and roof of the building, Max starts walking away, glancing over meaningfully at Logan. "I need some fresh air," she announces, and robo-boy dutifully follows her out into the night.

Against my best intentions, I find myself recoiling at the idea that she would prefer to spend her time with him rather than me. What the hell does Logan have that I don't? Not only am I smarter, stronger, and faster, but I'm also fully mobile and closer to Max's age. And I can field strip any modern assault rifle in under twenty seconds, too. Let's see Mr. Logan Cale, cyber-journalist crusader, do that. I really just don't understand women. Once again, though, I push all of those thoughts from my head and remind myself of what's most important. Max is one of my soldiers, and not anything that would even vaguely resemble a love interest. She's not interested in me that way, she's never been interested in me that way, and she'll never be interested in me that way. She's my soldier, and nothing else. That means she's my responsibility. I won't allow my feelings to get in the way of what I have to do to keep my team safe.

__

To be continued..................................


	5. Part 5

James Cameron and Charles Eglee own Dark Angel

James Cameron and Charles Eglee own Dark Angel. My use is in no way meant to challenge their copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned (or any other) copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons (either real or fictional) is unintended.

****

5

I sit back against the side of the van and try to relax, telling myself over and over that I have to keep myself relaxed. It's gonna be a long trip, and there's no point in getting anxious now. That'll only serve to burn off some of the energy I'm gonna need later. I wish we could go faster, but once the van hits 70 M.P.H. the vehicle starts to shake uncomfortably. Seems the South Africans didn't bother to get the alignment taken care of.

So here we are, six fools embarking on a mission that we never would have considered trying just a year ago. Of course, back then, not so long ago, we were still full of the asinine idea that we were unstoppable. In the past year, Brin was afflicted by some strange aging effect that led her to voluntarily return to Manticore for treatment, to rejoin our almost-forgotten siblings; Ben wigged out and started whacking people, that whole fiasco ending with him begging Max to kill him rather than allow him to be retaken by Manticore; then there was our latest loss – Tinga. Three of the twelve, twenty-five percent of the escapees, have been either killed or recaptured within the past year, and the rest of us have realized just how vulnerable we are. I hate the idea of this attack, but I'll be the first to admit that it seems we have very little choice in the matter.

Deck is driving, keeping his eyes focused on the road, not even looking at Logan sitting in the passenger seat next to him. Max's main squeeze is busy with something on his computer, probably getting some decryption programs ready to transfer over to the equipment in the van. Then there's the four of us in the back, the super-soldiers that have to do the really hard work. Krit is leaning back against the side of the van in an odd position... I think he's asleep. Figures. Syl is reading Nietzsche's Will to Power_._ Can't say I'm surprised by her literary tastes; it's not like she was ever one to go in for crappy fiction. Max is sitting in the rear corner, tracing over every line of the schematic that Lydecker gave us. Once in awhile she closes her eyes, and I can almost make out the images she's calling up in her head, faint memories from her childhood that help her more accurately imagine exactly what our surroundings will look like once we get in. And what am I doing? I'm simply sitting here, letting my mind wander. How's that for being hard as nails?

I really wish I could focus on the task at hand, but I can't. At least not yet. I think that for now I'd rather just try to pretend that we're all just going on some kind of trip together, a social outing that doesn't include any explosives or firearms. I know that it's unlikely that all of us will make it out of this, despite all of Lydecker's assurances. I know Syl realizes it, too – she wouldn't be reading over her personal hero's writings like this if she were fully confident in her chances of survival. She's preparing herself for death.

I find my gaze directing itself toward Max. She's so beautiful... _What if she doesn't make it out?_ I wondered. I question whether I should tell her how I feel, but I quickly decide against that. _What would that accomplish, anyway?_ I'd only end up either distracting her or pissing her off. Neither one of those options is desirable when we're preparing to attack the Gillette facility.

For hours and hours it continues like that, with the only break being two fuel stops that Lydecker makes along the way. Finally we reach our destination, and Logan immediately hooks his laptop into the van's computer and gets to work while the rest of us get the weapons together and wake up Krit (I can't believe he never woke up during the entire trip!). Krit and Syl seem strangely relaxed, but Max seems pretty wound up, her eyes drifting towards Logan every once in awhile. Lydecker seems happy as a pig in shit, his eyes running over me and the rest of 'his kids.' I bet he sees this mission as a very personal statement against those he used to work with. He had his own vision of the Manticore Project, and apparently there were others that disagreed. Now he's going to show them all that he was right all along, that a small group of super-soldiers can be more dangerous than anyone had ever imagined.

Logan starts typing frantically on the computer, and I can see that he's using a military satellite he somehow hacked into to break his way into Manticore's mainframe. I'll give him this – he's good. Very good. He may not be as smart as my sibs or me, but he's got experience and skills that put us to shame. I make a mental note to keep in touch with Logan after this, just in case I need some help with a computer system someday. I place the map of the facility down on the ground outside the van, all five of us gathering around to go over the plan one last time as Logan watches over us from his position in front of the computers.

"Syl and Krit will proceed via service corridor 4 alpha to the main and auxiliary generators and set charges," I say, though I know we should all have the plan down by now. It never hurts to be thorough, though, so we'll walk through this again, just to make sure. "Max and I will take the basement to the east air shaft and proceed to the DNA lab. At 0430 we set charges. By 0440 the firing sequence will commence."

"We'll detonate the charges from here," Lydecker chimes in.

"I'm in," Logan suddenly announces, allowing me to breathe a sigh of relief. He had assured Lydeker and me that he would be able to get past Manticore's encryption codes, but I understandably had my doubts. Now that that one last major uncertainty has been taken care of, I allow myself a brief second to believe that this mission might be a success. _Okay, time's up,_ I announce silently. _Time to get back to work._ "I've accessed the internal surveillance system," Logan explains. "I'm copying loops into each camera feed so they won't be able to see you, but we will. So we can monitor you, steer you around any obstacles."

"We rendezvous here by 0448," I add. "Questions?"

"What happens if we run into Brin in there?" Syl asks, though I'm pretty sure she already knows the answer. This question is for Max's benefit.

"She'll kill you without a second thought," Lydecker says immediately, something in his voice seeming disappointed that the Brin that had developed on the outside world was apparently gone forever. "The sister that you knew doesn't exist anymore – she's dead."

"No, she isn't," Max insists stubbornly. I knew this wasn't gonna go smoothly. "She's alive and that means we still have a chance to get her back." _You're a fool, Max,_ I want to say, though I bite my tongue. I simply hope that Brin is nowhere to be seen, so that Max doesn't end up doing something tactically unsound.

"Here's your clearance to the lab," Lydecker says as he hands me a container. I almost thank him aloud for changing the topic of conversation.

"You know what you have to do," I tell my team. "Move out." We all start to move away, but then Max holds back a bit as Logan walks up to her. I make certain I keep my back to them, knowing it won't help me at all to see them hug and kiss again. Just because I can't see them, though, doesn't mean I can't hear them.

"I'd kiss you, but I have to keep my head in the game," she mutters, her words tearing into my heart as I vividly imagine her wonderful body in the arms of another.

"Just come back," Logan replies softly.

We move out quickly, racing across the grounds of the facility as we approach the inner perimeter. Part of me screams out that this is too easy, that someone on the inside knows we're coming, and that they're baiting us in. I immediately suspect Lydecker of setting us up, of buying his own life by betraying us to his superiors. It's a move that makes sense, and something I've been pondering ever since he suggested this mission. Once again I wonder why I agreed to this, but then I see Max, Syl, and Krit as they keep pace with me, their faces full of resolve. _That's right,_ I remind myself. _I came along because this is where my soldiers are. They'll need me tonight, perhaps more than ever. I'll do anything for them. They're my responsibility._

We finally reach the edge of the tree line at the top of a small hill, looking down on the main facility. Back when I was a kid, this was simply home. It was what it was, and it encompassed my entire world. Now I've been on the outside for awhile, and I realize just how banal the buildings appear from the outside. If it weren't for the spotlights scanning the area and the ten-foot high chain link fences topped with barbed wire, I imagine that I might almost be able to mistake the large building as a college dormitory. _Yeah, a dormitory in hell,_ I think, reminding myself of some of the things that went on here when I was a child. Images flash through my mind, but surprisingly, the one memory that I really grasp a hold of is the escape. That was the last time I was here, the last time I saw my childhood home. Right after I turned my back on Manticore, I ended up disabling several guards before I was tasered and brought down. There's a large, gaping hole in my memory after that. I know I completed my escape, though I'm not certain how. Maybe running around the compound tonight will help stir up a few of those old, repressed memories.

"This is for Tinga," Max mutters, though I all but ignore her. If she wants to avenge the memory of a dead woman, that's fine. Just as long as she gets the job done. Me... I'm fighting to secure the safety of the ones that are still alive. 

__

To be continued.............................


	6. Part 6

6

James Cameron and Charles Eglee own Dark Angel. My use is in no way meant to challenge their copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned (or any other) copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons (either real or fictional) is unintended.

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6

The four of us, as one, decide that the time for action has come. We race down the hill and leap over the fence, hardly breaking stride as we move. As we had expected, getting in is easy. We divide up into two pairs almost immediately, Syl and Krit going for the generator as Max and I head towards the lab.

There are no guards, but that doesn't mean that I'm not being challenged with every step I take. Memories come back, unbidden, washing over me with disturbing power. Memories of classes, memories of combat simulations, memories of laying in bed at night, afraid that the nomolies would spring out of the darkness and kill one of my soldiers. It's that memory that grabs me most. It's something curious, something that I hadn't really thought much about since the escape. I was never really afraid of the nomolies, at least not as a threat to my own safety. I was always more afraid that one of my soldiers might come to harm. The memory steels my resolve and places me firmly back in the present, reminding me of my responsibilities and the job at hand. As absurd as the thought might be, I am going to help take down Manticore, and I'm going to do it without losing any of my team.

I look at Max and notice that she seems a little distracted, her face creased with lines of worry. I guess she's remembering a lot of the same stuff I was. "You okay, Max?" I ask softly. She nods her head in response, and I can only hope that she's being honest with me. Either way, though, it's too late to turn back, now. It looks like its time to get the party started.

"You see anything south of corridor 4?" I hear Krit ask over the com. A quick glance at my watch lets me know that he and Syl are six seconds ahead of schedule. Very nice job on their part. Now if only Max and I could get our heads back in the game here...

"You're clear all the way to the generator," Logan tells them. It seems at least the diversionary tactic should come off without a hitch. I hope we'll be able to say the same for the mission objective.

"Copy that," Krit says evenly, not a bit of fear in his voice. Of course, fear isn't something I'd expect from him at this point. He's probably been back here a thousand times in his dreams, and I'll bet he's already faced far worse from his imagination than reality could ever throw at him.

"Logan?" Max suddenly asks. I take a brief look around, wondering why she's broken radio silence, and I realize we've reached our last checkpoint before the lab. Nice to see one of us was paying attention.

"I got you, Max," Logan replies. His voice is calm and steady, as he's doubtlessly trying to project a feeling of safety and security to Max. He's doing a good job. I can even feel myself calming down at the sound of his voice. Strange, that.

"We good to go?" Max asks.

"You're clear."

From this checkpoint to the lab is a short corridor, and there's no reason anyone should show up unexpectedly. In front of us, the only other access to the hall comes from the lab itself, and I trust that Logan was thorough enough in his search to make certain none of the lab's personnel are working a late night. We reach the door to the lab, and I take out the eye that Lydecker acquired for us in his little side-mission with Max. I don't know who this eye was removed from, and I don't much care. All that matters is that Lydecker was able to procure a body part from someone from whom Manticore had not yanked security clearance. I pull down the identification camera, and a short moment later we're approved for entrance.

"I guess there is an 'I' in 'team,' " Max says with a hint of a grin. I do my best to maintain my stolid composure, but I think the slightest ghost of a smile passes over my face. I'm not generally one for humor, especially during a mission, but the mental image of what Lydecker's expression would be if he heard that pun is just a little too much for me to contain. "It worked," Max reports over the com. "We're in."

Max and I enter the lab, and I get the strangest feeling. I'm suddenly reminded of something an old bag lady once said to me in Minneapolis, that she felt like someone had just walked over her grave. Until now I had no idea what she had meant. That's how it feels to see four walls constructed of glass cases, each marked with a bar code that I recognize – I feel like someone just walked over my grave. I don't think I could explain to a normal what it feels like to see a small glass vial that is, in essence, me. It's humbling in a way I can't describe. I've been wandering around the United States for ten years, obviously superior to every non-X-5 that I encounter, but in the end I'm nothing more than a few cells that were thrown together. The proof of that is sitting in front of me. There was no miracle of creation for me, no parents that came together to create me as an expression of caring (or at least lust) for each other.

"Max, it's you," I comment once I see her barcode. It looks like she's probably having the same thoughts that I am right now. "And me...and Brin...and Tinga."

"No. Tinga's dead," she says evenly, her voice brooking no argument. Maybe she's right. Tinga was more than just a collection of cells, she was an individual that had absolutely no resemblance to the woman that would develop if Manticore's scientists implanted these cells into a surrogate mother to create a new Tinga, to be raised here on the compound. Max is different, too. As I am. We're not Manticore property anymore. We're not a concoction of cells to be toyed with as a few scientists please. After tonight, Renfro will understand that. "Come on," Max mutters, jolting my concentration back to where it should be and getting my act together. I feel a wave of clarity and concentration wash over me, and for the first time in months I feel like the old me. All of the distractions and emotions have been sublimated. I finally know who I am. I'm not some geneticist's science experiment, but neither am I the normal man I've been pretending to be lately, as I began to care more and more for Max. I'm something different, something that has elements of both.

We go to work immediately, placing the explosives around the lab. For a brief moment I'm concerned that the detonation signal won't get through the walls, that there must be some kind of protective material to prevent this very kind of operation. Then I relax, though. If that were a problem, Lydecker would have done this differently. The colonel knows his job; I only need to concentrate on my own.

"The target is primed." I report as soon as Max and I are done.

"Okay, get out of there," Logan says.

"We're on the move," I tell him, not needing any more prompting. I know that both Syl and Krit should be done by now, too. This half-ass idea might actually work...

That's when everything starts to go wrong. Noise erupts in my ears, temporarily disorienting me. I had been concentrating on listening for the slightest sound, and now my aural faculties are on overload, similar to the way my eyes would feel if someone shined a spotlight in my face while I was wearing nightvision goggles. The sound is actually painful.

"We've got an alarm," Lydecker reports, though I think we all figured that out already. "Withdraw to the perimeter," he orders, something in his voice sounding strangely concerned. It almost reminds me of the way Logan sounded when Lydecker surprised Max and me when we were trying to rescue Tinga. "We've been made," Lydecker continues. "All units withdraw."

"Roger that," Krit responds.

"Moving out," Max adds. We're suddenly racing through the complex, the surroundings a blur as we dash past the cold, bare walls. I can hear the footsteps of some sentries that are moving into position, while others are moving through the halls, searching for intruders, for us. Too bad for them they're probably all normals. It's unlikely they'll ever find us; and if they do, they'll be unable to do anything to stop us. Then I see and hear something that makes me concerned. As we run past one door, I can hear people inside, using what sounds like a battering ram to get out. _That's not part of the plan,_ my mind reminds me. This is the area that my sibs and I grew up in, and there wasn't supposed to be anyone here. If they're locked in, it's probably because Lydecker had Logan engaged the maglocks while he was poking around in the security system. We're not far past the door when I hear it crash down to the floor in the hallway. It doesn't take a genius to put the pieces together – a younger generation still has some of its people here. _X-6? X-7?_ I don't know. I just run, not risking a glance back. I know how much better my class was compared to those that came before. I don't even want to imagine what 'improvements' have been made since we left.

"Syl, Krit, unfriendlies behind you, 25 meters and closing," Logan reports. He probably thinks he sounds cool, saying the guards are 'unfriendlies.' I'll bet these guards are carrying assault rifles and responding to orders to shoot on sight. To hell with unfriendly, I'd call them absolutely hostile.

"Take them out," Lydecker orders. I can hear gunfire over the com, and neither Krit nor Syl reports that there's a problem. Since there's no way both of them would have been taken out cleanly, I can only assume that they're okay.

"It's Brin," Lydecker mutters. I have to wonder whether he left that line open or not, hoping that Max would her him. "She's heading for the lab." Okay, he left the line open on purpose. He probably wants Brin taken out, and he knows that Max will volunteer for the job, hoping to save her sister from getting blown up.

"Which way is she coming?" Max asks predictably.

"They're onto us," I remind her. "There's no time." I can tell by the look on Max's face that she isn't going to listen to me. She's going to 'save' Brin.

"I won't let her take one for good ol' Manticore," Max shoots back at me. "Which way?" she demands. My one hope is that both Logan and Lydecker will be smart enough not to tell her, though I know the colonel will be more than willing to send Max back, just to make sure the explosives aren't disarmed.

"Back the way you came, first corridor on your left," Logan replies. Okay, I'll admit it – I'm more than a little surprised. I never thought Logan would be stupid enough to send Max back. I want to grab Max, to explain to her that there's probably another generation around here somewhere, and that we can't risk this. But there just isn't time...

"Go!" Max yells at me. _Okay,_ I decide, starting to turn in the other direction. Something in Max's eyes lets me know that she's completely aware of the choice she's making. She's just significantly reduced her chances of making it out alive, and she knows it. She's also unwilling to foolishly risk additional assets by letting me go with her. Finally, I can see that she's still a soldier, deep down inside. That cold, steely core that Manticore created has gone untouched in ten years as a civilian. She may not want me to go with her, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to help her. I'll go outside and hang around the inner perimeter, trying to create a weakness in our enemies' positions so that she'll be able to get away.

Minutes pass and I dig myself in, making certain I have a fairly defensible position. One shot, then two, then three. Several sentries by access point thirteen fall down, and I hope that that is, indeed, the door that Max will use. It's the door I would use, anyway, and since I'm pretty sure she's finally thinking like one of us again, I'll take the chance. With the enemy's guards compromised, I take off toward the outer perimeter, hoping I can make it out without running into anyone that could be an undue threat.

"She's clear," I hear Logan announce over the com. I guess they've been a little too distracted to go to the trouble of silencing the line when they're not talking to the rest of us. "Detonate." I wait for the explosion, but nothing happens.

"I said, she's clear," Logan repeats. I here a faint click over the line, and I have to stifle a smile as I realize Logan has likely just pulled a weapon on the colonel. _God, I wish I was there to see this._ "Do it now." This time, his urging meets with some success; I feel a slight rumbling under my feet and hear a muffled explosion come from back in the direction of the compound. _Mission accomplished._

"Max, where are you?" Logan asks, suddenly seeming to have taken more of a command role in this operation. Guy has balls... maybe I've been wrong about him all this time.

"Almost home," Max replies.

"Zack, talk to me," he adds, surprising me with the genuine concern in his voice. And here I thought he hated me...

"On my way," I respond.

"Do you know who I am?" I hear Max ask. _What the hell is she doing now?_ Time to wonder is lost, however, as a small unit locates me. My opportunity to run full-tilt off the grounds is lost as I'm forced to undertake an engaged withdrawal. _Damn, this is gonna take too long._

"Max?" I hear Logan ask desperately. Something is wrong with Max, I can just feel it. Seems Logan can, too. Figures, what with his close relationship with her and all. "Max, answer me."

I wish I could go find Max, help her in some way, but I have my hands full as it is. Gunfire is coming from all angles, and I know in my gut that I'm being flanked on both sides. I only have two chances right now. Either I start hitting with some of my shots, or I turn tail and run away as fast as I can, escaping the noose before my enemies can close it tightly around me. Hitting some of them will take luck, as I can't even see who I'm shooting at. Right now I can only hope to keep them pinned down like they're doing to me. If I run, well... I'll be turning my back on trained, armed soldiers. Doesn't seem like that's a very good idea, either. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that I'm screwed. I guess I could call for reinforcements, but that would put my people at unnecessary risk, so that's not a viable option. Krit and Syl are probably already out, so they can stay there. As for Max, well, I can only hope that she's okay. Maybe I can hook up with her. I start to move quickly in the direction I figure she ran in, and suddenly feel a sharp, biting sensation in my back as I'm thrown to the ground. I've been hit, though it could be worse. My arms and legs still work, so my spine wasn't damaged. There's still hope. Then, in a flash, a half-dozen children appear as if from nowhere. _Damn, they're even faster than any X-5._ I look up into a familiar pair of eyes, my eyes, and I'm reminded of the lab. Max was right – those vials weren't us. If they were, then I wouldn't be looking at a younger version of me, holding me at gunpoint. Seems I just became a POW.

The next few minutes are a blur. I'm brought back to the compound, still at gunpoint, and strapped down on a stretcher to be brought to the infirmary. I lay back as the adrenaline starts to wear off. The wound hurts like hell, but it's nothing permanent. In fact, as much as it hurts, I think I'm bothered more by the fact that I just got my ass kicked. That's never happened before, especially not at the hands of a bunch of children. It's humiliating. My only comfort comes from the thought that by now my people are likely long gone.

I see the infirmary doors ahead, and I can hear a bit of shouting. Stands to reason. There must have been some casualties suffered by some of the compound's personnel. As I get wheeled in, though, I see my sister lying on another stretcher. "Max!" I hear myself scream. It's strange, almost as if my mouth is working on autopilot. I know I didn't plan on yelling. I'm concentrating far too much on getting out of these straps to bother thinking about words.

"Internal paddles," a female doctor says.

"Charge to 30," a man says to one of the assistants.

"Charge."

"Clear," the man instructs. I can hear a heartbeat on the monitor, but just as my hopes start to rise, Max flat-lines again. Then I see someone new walk in, an air of command about her. She's wearing a black skirt and sport-jacket, and everyone seems to subconsciously defer to her. Seems I just met Renfro. I start to work at the straps more, trying to simply overpower the material.

"30 again," the male doctor mutters.

"Charge."

"Clear." Again there's a heartbeat, but this time I'm not surprised to hear the flat-line that follows.

"What's her condition?" Renfro asks, her voice lacking any genuine, humanitarian concern. God I wish I had a weapon right now.

"The bullet went clean through," the male doctor responds quickly. "Her right ventricle is collapsed. She's gone." _No, goddamnit, it can't be!_ I curse. She can't be gone. Especially not with a gunshot wound through the right ventricle. Not like Barry. My mistakes have just been repeated_. I just lost a soldier. I just lost a soldier. I just lost a soldier..._

"Is there damage to any other organs?" Renfro asks, the bitch seeming as eerily calm and detached as I'm sure she always is. The doctor shakes his head, no. "Prep her for harvesting."

"No!" I yell, though this time I know exactly what I'm doing as I shout. I have to distract them. I have to get their attention away from Max. I just need to keep them from finishing her off until I can get out of these straps. For the first time in my life, I let go of my feelings, uncorking emotions that I've kept bottled up my entire life. For the briefest of moments I feel every sensation that I've suppressed over the years, and my body reacts as I predicted it would. I feel a surge of adrenaline, and I burst out of the straps. The guards, only normals and caught by surprise, are no match for me. In one smooth, practiced motion I snap the neck of the closest guard while I draw his own sidearm from his crumpling body. Renfro surprises me with her quickness as she runs away, but I grab her before she gets more than a few steps. Now I have a hostage. "Bring her back!" I warn the doctors, pointing my weapon at them to emphasize the fact that this is not a topic open for debate. They _will_ comply.

"Her heart's too badly damaged," the male doctor says lamely.

"Then transplant her," I growl.

"There's nothing in the donor bank," the doctor replies, as if I'm interested in his excuses. I will _not_ allow Max to die. No X-5's die on my watch.

"Then you need a donor," I say evenly, pointing my weapon at Renfro's head. Seems the problem is solved.

"It won't do her any good," Renfro replies, trying to act calm. I guess she forgets how acute my senses are – I can smell the fear rolling off her. Her charade is simply insulting. "She's an X-5," the woman points out. "She needs an X-5 heart." I almost curse myself for being so stupid. Of course she needs an X-5 heart. As if a normal's heart would be able to withstand the stress of our heightened adrenaline levels, or be able to supply the amount of blood that our augmented musculature demands. The new heart would probably fail within an hour.

I push the bitch away and kneel down at Maxie's side. I swore I would never, ever allow anything to happen to my soldiers, but I've failed. Max is lying here dying, dead, and now I only have one option available. I can save Max, but it will mean none of the others will have my protection again. I can only hope that Lydecker's predictions are true, that our assault will, in fact, spell the end of Manticore. If Manticore dies, then my soldiers will be safe; they won't need me, anyway. I won't have a true purpose anymore, so I might as well do what I can to fulfill my final responsibility.

"Fight them, Maxie," I whisper in Max's ear, suppressing the urge to tell her I love her. I won't admit to such things in front of my enemies. In lieu of the whole truth, this will do. "Promise me you'll fight them."

I stand up, and I can see the eyes of the medical team go wide as they begin to figure out what I have planned. They've never seen anything like this before. "X5-599, I've got a heart for you." Then all it takes is to squeeze the trigger...

Fin?

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Author's Note: I would like to acknowledge and thank DarkAngelFan.com, from which I was able to get a transcript for the episode, And Jesus Brought a Casserole. It sure made things easier for me.


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